I’m super excited to share a guest post I did on one of my favorite sites, sugarbutch. I’ve know Sinclair Sexsmith for years and was tickled when they asked me to write a story for their site.
Take a look at my story Back Seat Brat and take a look around the rest of the site. There are hot stories and wonderful thought provoking essays and other information.
I give you a chapter from my upcoming novel, The Curator. It’s a bit different than my other work as it borrows a lot from weird pulp smut from the 70s. Two young ladies who started working at a museum in a small town in Massachusetts, find out all is not what it seems and the evil curator collects more than just art. In this chapter Kally learns what breaking the rules gets you and Erica learns just how devious the Curator’s games are.
Erica sat motionless, tied to the wheelchair, gagged, helpless, with the large vibrator there, between her legs, still for the moment.
We always want what we can’t have.
Sophia came to the Order’s Dollhouse for very specific things; to be undressed, made up, and re-created as a doll.
She would arrive in a whirlwind of messy hair, jeans, and ill fitting blouses and in an hour’s time she would look like the others; poised, pretty, and perfect. Hair pulled back tightly, skin even, lips cherry red, eyes made huge with rims of kohl and shadows and the trickery of brushes and color.
She came to the bar a lot, usually alone. She was post college aged, dark hair, dark eyes, very good posture, she radiated awkwardness. She had a sort of uniform, tight high waisted black jeans, cropped blouses which were often striped, and a black beret.
The bar was called Harry’s. I came to there to people watch. It was a little Lower East Side place, not a dive exactly, just a sort of local bar that somehow survived the various waves of trend and gentrification.
It was a good place to catch bits of characters. Regulars, couples, tourists, artists, drunks, weirdos. The girl in the beret nursed a glass of wine and read.
It was the Sunday before “the big change.”
After years of working at an office job she hated, my Julie was going to back to school full time to finish her master’s degree.
The shift to a “one income household” really wasn’t that much of a big deal. We didn’t have kids and I was doing well, plus she had been saving up for years.
In dreams. It was in dreams that I heard the command to awaken. It must have been, since when my eyes did open, I was alone.
In the dark of my bedchamber I rose and felt immediately assaulted by the chill of the winter night. The fire had grown low and only a small red glow of embers lit one corner of my room.
I knew from the fire’s waning and the pitch black outside the window it was still the small hours, not yet near dawn but well past the witching hour.
10/3 As per your instructions, I laid down after work, before I had dinner. As I said in my texts, my sex drive has just been pretty low since the summer ended. Still I did what you said. I read the story you sent me. It felt nice to not think about it and just follow the list of rules you gave me.
I did things slowly. I admit, there was something comforting in knowing I wasn’t going to come. I could just sort of linger and touch all the different parts of my body. There was something almost meditative about it.
After I read your story I closed my eyes and pictured the last time I went over your apartment. I pictured your hands on my body, on my throat. I certainly felt something, though it was dull. Like my body out of practice.
I have a story in a new anthology! My spanking tale Giving Spanks is the first story in the Spanksgiving anthology, edited by Lori Perkins. Get it at Riverdale Avenue Books.
Thanksgiving…the sexiest time of the year..NOT!
Thanksgiving needs a marketing do-over. It should be the sexiest time of the year when you consider that we get four full days off from work, too much good food and drink, football, left-overs, binge-watching, and the intoxicating rush of shopping, either in the flesh or online, for presents for others and yourself. And maybe even a trip back home to rekindle old flames.
Note: This is a preview of a longer story. It is 5200 words in length and is a little sad, pretty racy and has a happy ending. You can get the whole thing for $1 here.
The message came while Leah was in a production meeting. She glanced at her watch and saw the truncated text message routed from her phone.
“Delivered today: ServiceBot R2900.GirlfriendMateria…”